


In Darkness there is Light

by Caoilinn



Category: Republic of Doyle
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-05
Updated: 2014-02-26
Packaged: 2018-01-11 05:49:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1169434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caoilinn/pseuds/Caoilinn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Leslie's journey undercover, fleshing out some of the blanks between the end of season 3 and the beginning of season 4.  Slightly AU.  More wishful thinking that doesn't stray far from cannon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> First attempt at fan fiction in a long long time. Hopefully true to character.

The whole thing was Hood's idea, which shouldn't come as a surprise to anyone.  I knew something was up, from the looks that he had been sending me lately.  Glances that became more and more calculating as I tried to navigate some kind of something with Jake Doyle.  So when I was called into the inspector's office the day after Guy the vacationing Sûreté du Québec officer left, I almost welcomed the dressing down I expected to receive.  At least things would be settled and I could move on.    
  
What I didn't expect was to be offered a job.  I never thought that I could pull off an undercover assignment and was completely unsure of my ability to shed my own skin and don someone else's.  But, this could be the key to getting my career back on track, and as much as it pained me to admit it, my job really was my life.   
  
Hood was waiting for me when I got back to the basement office, casually resting against my desk with an apple flip in hand.  "You're going to need to sell it Bennett.  You disappear now and Doyle will never stop looking.  Burn your bridges, do it slow and careful, but burn them all the same."  He left before I could get a word out.  Now all I had to do was destroy what was left of my life while trying not to hurt anyone else.   
  


* * *

  
It was all too easy to be mad at Jake; all I had to do was remember my stint as a traffic cop.  Then Reese was murdered and it was harder to maintain the shell.  The Doyle's needed me, and I knew it, but if I cracked now who knew where I'd end up.  I didn't want to be stuck in Lab City for good this time.    
  
The evidence stacked up, and though I knew that there was no way that Malachy would ever murder anyone in cold blood, it was far out of my hands.  I did what I had to and pulled the tough exterior even harder around me.  Maybe I would be better at this uncover stint then I thought, if my performance here was any indication.    
  
Until, one ungodly hour in the morning, I was standing in front of Jake's bed surrounded by uniforms and I could tell the second that he lied to me.  It had to be Mal on the phone, Jake may have been saying all the right words to perpetrate a misdirect, but his eyes couldn't lie to me.  I focused all my energy on masking the hurt I was feeling.  He didn't trust me enough to help him and his family through this.  He didn't trust me.  Bridges successfully burned.  I guess all my hard work hadn't been for nothing.  Now if I could just forget that I felt like crying everything would work out fine.    
      
When I rushed into my office twenty minutes later, struggling, and probably failing, to keep up the tough cop facade, Hood was once again leaning against my desk.  "In three days the brass want to send you to Halifax for a week of training with the Feds.  Then you can fly back as your cover identity and set yourself up down on Goodview St."   
  
"Sure."  I felt myself nodding.  Stuck somewhere between completely numb, and wanting to shoot something, I didn't know what to do, or what else to say.  I slumped down into my chair with an uncharacteristic sigh.      
  
"Look Bennett, you and he were never meant to work out."    
  
There was no need for me to ask whom we were talking about, so I just nodded again, feeling tears begin to pool in the corners of my eyes.  I take back my previous thought.  Some undercover cop I'm going to make, when I can't even keep it together in front of my own partner.    
  
Hood walked around the desk, and laid a gentle hand on my shoulder.  "We can sort out this mess about Reese and the Doyles while you're gone.  Tell him about the training, that you need to go away for a while, and then walk away and don't look back."    
  
The breath I drew in was surprisingly controlled and I felt some of my strength returning.  I could do this.  I had to do this, and maybe if I did it well enough my father would finally come to see my promotion ceremony.  
  
"I will."  Something resembling a smile graced my lips.  He grinned in return and turned to leave.  He was almost to the door before I found my voice again.  "And Dan, thanks for this."   
  


* * *

  
Threads unravelled quickly.  Jake was God knows where involved with something to do with government gold.  Sonja apparently had the ability to blow the city to kingdom come.  Rose and Malachy were in custody.  I was too busy to think about anything beside the case notes right in front of my nose, and the surprisingly hard task of memorizing a second identity.     
  
Rubbing my temples did little to ease the wicked headache that was forming behind eyes, and staring off into space wasn't much help either.  Nor, was the ringing of my phone.    
  
"Bennett."    
  
"Sergeant, there's been a shooting at the airport.  The Doyle kid took one to the stomach and it doesn't look good."    
  
"Oh my God."  I didn't stop to ask who the Doyle kid was, after all it was all just a matter of degrees.    
  
How I got to the hospital I don't know, I didn't even bother to put my coat on, headless of the worsening weather. I just had to get there.  Constable McKinley stood just inside the automatic doors to emergency, I almost ran him over in my haste.    
  
"Constable?"  My voice trailed off.  How were you supposed to ask if the man you loved was dead?    
  
He held up a hand to silence me, and I tried not to notice how his glove glistened with blood.  "It was Des."  I feel my frantically beating heart slow slightly at his words.   
  
McKinley looked at me with pity, and I wondered if he could sense the guilt that was coursing through me because I was grateful that Jake was alive, even if it meant that Des had been shot.    
  
"They took him upstairs."  I follow him, my heels clanking on the concrete steps.    
  
Even at the end of the hall, I could hear the sharp flat tone of the heart monitor.  Oh God, Des.  Des was too young to die - too kind to die.  Jake was nowhere to be seen.  I push open the double doors of the trauma room, stare too long at Des's prone bleeding form, latch my hands to Jake's wool-clad arm, and pull.    
  
"Jake."  Somehow my voice was as strong as steel.  All I could think about was how I had to get us out of here.  I pull harder and he comes.    
  
McKinley helped me guide Jake to stand against the wall.  Jake and I begin a slow slide down to the floor, and I feel his hands flit uncertainly around my waist, leaving faint smudges of blood.    
  
"Des?"  I've never heard him sound so broken.    
  
"I know."    
  
With one hand, I pull his head down to my shoulder, while my other winds around his back.  My fingers are making a snarl of his hair, and my knees press hard into the unforgiving floor.  All the work that I had put into a tough exterior gone in an instant. How could anything be more important then this?  "There was nothing you could do."   
  
I mean my words to be soothing, but he tenses against me.    
  
"It's all my fault."    
  
"Jake."  My voice is soft now, almost pleading.  Pleading for him not to take on more blame, more guilt on his shoulders.  "I'm sure that's not true."    
  
"But it is."  His head snaps up and his eyes bore into mine.  "Leslie.  It's all my fault."  The beginnings of tears shine and I know that he believes every word to be true.     
  
I place a light kiss to his temple, benediction freely given, and pull him into a hug once more.  "Hush now.  It'll be alright."   
  
"How?"  His voice cracks into a sob, and I feel wetness begin to pool against the skin of my neck.   
  
I don't have an answer. I just clasp him tighter, squeeze my eyes shut, and hope that the faint beeping I hear in the air is Des clinging to life.   
  


* * *

  
My knees are starting to tingle with pain, when I first think to look up and see if McKinley is still standing above us.  He's not and I'm glad that I'm the only one who has borne witness to the brunt of Jake's tears.  While his sobs were fleeting, I know that he would hate to show weakness in front of anyone.  Part of me is still stunned that he was willing to show it to me after how I've been the past few weeks.   
  
Jake's breathing settles quickly, and I feel him tense ever so slightly under my hands when he comes back to himself, but he doesn't pull back.  Blood stained hands fiddle absent-mindedly with the ends of my curls, but I don't mind.  If he wants to hide from the world for a little while, I'll let him.    
  
The sharp ding of the elevator shatters our cocoon of silence, and before I have a chance to disentangle myself, Malachy and Rose are upon us.  They must have been cleared of the charges against them.      
  
"What happened?  Jake! What have you gotten the poor boy into now?"  Malachy's questions are more accusations then anything.  I hold up a hand to stop them, while I try to get my numb feet under me enough to stand.     
  
"Malachy why don't we go and talk about this."  My attempt to soothe the situation gets nowhere, and he presses on angrier then ever.     
  
"Leslie stay out of this.  Answer me Jake."   
  
I turn, shielding Jake from his father as much as possible.  The last thing he needs is for his father to blame him for this.  Their relationship may appear to be prickly but I know Jake loves his father and counts on his respect.    
  
"I will not stay out of this, and if you can't restrain yourself, I'll have uniforms throw you out of this hospital."  I can tell that my own anger has taken him aback.   
  
Rose lays a steadying hand on her husband's raised arm.  "Mal maybe we should go and find a waiting room."    
  
"Rose, I'm not going anywhere until I get some answers."  His voice may have dropped a few decibels, but his tone is still as hard as ice.   
  
"Well you won't be getting them here."  He picked the wrong night to mess with me.  I brace myself for the oncoming storm.    
  
"It's OK Leslie."  Jake's voice is so soft I don't know if anyone else even heard him.  His hand taps my calf and I move to the side, reaching down a hand to help him up.     
  
Rose gasps when she sees the state of him.  "Jake are you alright?"    
  
I turn my head and take in his red-rimmed eyes, the swipe of blood on his cheek now run through with tear tracks, surprised that he makes no move to wipe the moisture away.  He ignores Rose's question; choosing to stare down his father instead.    
  
"You want to know what happened Dad?  I got Des shot in the gut, and he's probably lying dead in that room."  His voice is steady and emotionless, as if he really was just laying out the facts.  "Guess I really am the screw up you always said I was."    
  
Without another word he brushes past us all and heads for the stairs, the protests of the ungreased push bar echoing down the silent hall.     
  
I take in Mal's shocked face.  Maybe he knows that he finally went too far.  "I'm sorry Leslie."     
  
I scoff in a tone that is usually reserved for Jake.  "I'm not the one you should be apologising to.  He's your son for Christsakes, can't you see he's hurting?"    
  
"I didn't think."    
  
Mal starts again but I cut him off quickly.  "That's right you didn't think."  I turn quickly and start for the stairs.  "Rose, call me once you know something."  I need to find Jake before he does something reckless.    
  



	2. Chapter 2

I head down one level to the entrance, but Jake is nowhere to be found and none of the staff have seen him either. I scan quickly to see if there are any uniforms milling about, but they must have all returned to the station. I head back to the stairs and walk the five flights to the roof. Peeking in on every floor, just to make sure that he hadn't installed himself in any of the waiting rooms, but I'm pretty confident in his destination - close enough to keep an eye on things and far enough away that he could have the space he needed.

The door to the roof was propped open by a coffee can half-full of cigarette butts. I felt the breeze and heard the whistle of the wind once I had reached the fourth floor.

I pushed open the strong metal door to a wintery scene - snowflakes danced in the beams of yellow service lights, and the ground was already covered in white. Jake stood unmoving at the railing overlooking MUN's lit up buildings. Walking carefully, I reached his side, and tried to ignore how the cold was seeping through my thin blazer.

"You OK?" It was a stupid question, but I couldn't think of anything better.

He surprises me with an honest "No."

I nestle one of my hands in the crook of his elbow, partially to comfort but also for warmth. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"The fact that my father's an arse? Or that I got a kid shot?" Anger simmers just below the surface of his voice.

I'm torn between provoking him to let his feelings out and wanting to comfort him any way I can, and settle for a non-committal. "Either? Both?"

His chuckle reeks of scorn. "Why do you suddenly care so much anyway?"

I drop my hand from his arm, missing the warmth immediately, but needing to distance myself from him as I try to explain my actions without giving anything away.

"I've always cared Jake. I can't seem to stop."

"Well you have a shitty way of showing it." His anger is there full force now, but I can't bring myself to feel anything but remorse for how I've been treating him, so I just watch the snow as it falls softly to the ground. In the distance, the shrieks of students having a snowball fight mingle with the sounds of sirens from below.

It's a few minutes before he tugs on my arm and turns us both so that I'm looking up at him. "Look Leslie, I'm grateful for what you did downstairs, but I don't understand why you did it. Something's been up with you for weeks."

I can tell that he is pushing away his thoughts of Des to try to deal with the one thing that we might actually be able to fix, not knowing that this line of questioning opens a whole other can of worms.

"I've been selected for a long-term assignment." It is just a kernel of the full truth, but it is the truth. "I thought it would be better to not leave you wondering about us." My mind flashes back to two nights ago when we shared a drink in his office. If Christian hadn't walked in, I might have given in to feelings I shouldn't have been having.

I shiver against the cold and Jake finally seems to notice that I'm out in the snow wearing nothing but a pantsuit. "Jesus Leslie, what the hell were you thinking?"

His question could have been directed either to my clothing or my career choices, but the haste with which he pulls me to the propped-open door, leads me to believe that he was talking about the clothes. Once the door is pulled securely shut, and his pea coat is draped over my shoulders, we sit on the top of the concrete steps in silence.

I'm beginning to wonder if he forgot about my confession when he speaks again. "This assignment is a dangerous one I take it? Something for you to do to get your career back on track? Something away from here?" His 'away from me' goes unspoken, but I hear it anyway.

"Yes." I don't even want to think about how easily he has figured it out, or how resigned he sounds about the whole thing. "I need to go to Halifax for training."

His brows furrow slightly at this news. "When do you leave?"

"In a couple of weeks."

"If this mess hadn't happened were you even going to tell me?" I try not to feel hurt by his words, knowing that it is my own actions that caused them, but that doesn't make it any easier.

"Of course."

He nods half-heartedly, as if he needs to believe that there might still be good intentions in me, even if I hardly believe it myself. Doubt creeps into his eyes all to quickly. "You sure about that?"

I can't bring myself to say the words that I should say so I just look down at my hands encased in soft black wool. Jake sighs once, resigned, yet he makes no move to leave my side. The silence is smothering, oppressive as the minutes pass by, until I can't stand it anymore.

"It doesn't matter now." I mean to say that we have other things to deal with, that I can't handle having this conversation right now, and that I don't think that Jake can either. But, the moment the words leave my lips I realize that I mean something else entirely.

Jake seems to be able to read my mind, and I look up just in time to see his eyes widen in surprise then narrow in determination.

"I won't let you do this."

"It's my decision to make."

I'm not ready for his hands to reach out and clasp mine in a firm grip, shifting my body so that my shoulders rest gently against the stair rail and our angled knees touch.

"Leslie a year ago I sat on your doorstep and listened while you cried your eyes out because you were kicked off the force. I'm not going to let you throw away a chance to erase all the trouble I caused, especially out so some misguided sense of loyalty."

I can't take the look in his eyes as he tells me he isn't worth my time, can't let him go on believing that all I feel for him is loyalty, but neither of us are ready for declarations of love. I pull my hands free just enough to trace my thumbs over the ridges of his knuckles.

"It's not just loyalty. There's no use in either of us hiding from the truth anymore."

It takes a few beats and I watch his face as he processes what I said. "Well then."

The shrill ring of my phone jerks us both back to reality. I take a second longer then I should to press the answer button after seeing Rose's name on the call display, suddenly unsure if I'm ready to hear news of Des.

"Rose?"

The haunted look is back in Jake's eyes, and I can see his demeanour shift as the weight of guilt settles heavily back on his shoulders.

"He's alive for now. They just moved him to an operating room. The doctor said he would be down to talk to us in ten minutes can you get back here by then? How's Jake?"

I breathe a huge sigh of relief. "We'll be right down." I hang up quickly, choosing to ignore her second question.

"He's alive and they've taken him to surgery. Rose says that the doctor is going to come and explain his condition in ten minutes."

I stand and pull him to his feet beside me, trying not to dwell on how listless he's become. "He's going to be fine," I infuse my voice with far more confidence then I feel. "Let's go get you cleaned up."

* * *

 

The wheelchair bathroom on the fourth floor is as good a place as any for the task. Jake sits on the toilet seat, like a child, as I use wet paper towel to scrub the dried blood and salt from his face.

The hot water is almost too hot to bear when I stick his hands under the stream from the faucet, watching as the flecks of brown turn into swirls of red as they go down the drain.

"I almost forgot it was there." His first words in a while come out strained, barely audible over the rush of the water.

"Forgot what was there?"

"Des's blood on my hands."

"Jake." My voice carries so much emotion as I flashback to when Jake was shot and his blood seemed to stain my hands for days.

I turn off the water as Jake dries his hands with his back to me. His shoulders quiver slightly and his breath is uneven for a second before he turns around again, face squared and braced for what's to come.

* * *

 

I'm still wearing Jake's coat when we find Rose, Malachy, and Tinny, sitting anxiously in a waiting room down a corridor from where Des was first brought in. I feel Jake tense. Tinny's eyes track quickly between us and our joined hands before returning to her nervous study of her fingernails. Mal seems significantly calmer now that he at least knew that Des was alive, but he made no move to say anything to either or us while we waited. Luckily, we didn't have to wait long.

The doctor who greeted us was the same gruff man who had yelled at Jake to leave the trauma room, though he had changed into a blue scrub top and was without his white lab coat.

"As you know we managed to stabilize Mr. Courtney enough for surgery. The bullet nicked the large intestine upon entry before grazing the descending abdominal aorta and lodging between the T12 and L1 vertebrae. I repaired the damage to the aorta, which brought his blood pressure back up and eased the stress on his heart. Dr. Patterson will have a clear field to work with and should be able to safely remove the bullet and repair the damage to the intestine."

Rose and I gasped at the news of the news of the bullet's location, as Tinny started to cry softly curling herself into her grandmother's waiting arms.

"His prognosis is fair, if he pulls through the surgery as well as I expect, he'll make a slow but steady recovery. His injuries raise the risk of post-operative infection, but the concern will be his lower body function which might take months to return if it does return fully."

"So he might not walk again?" Malachy's voice is as steady as always, when he asks the question that all of us were thinking, but the look of pure dread on his face betrays his emotions.

"Only time will tell. I'm sorry that I can't offer a more definitive answer, but know that Mr. Courtney is young and strong and has pulled through remarkably well so far. I need to get back to work in the ER. The surgery is likely to take three to four hours. Once he is moved to the recovery room only one visitor will be allowed entry at a time. The rest of you might want to consider getting some rest and coming back in the morning."

The doctor left, as quickly and quietly as he had come, but we made no move to follow, there would be no rest for us tonight.


End file.
